


A Bird Flies Out

by performativezippers



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: BAMF Alex Danvers, Danvers Sisters, F/F, Not quite one-shots but not quite just one story, Sanvers - Freeform, Some Fluff, Some angst, a bird flies out, alex is an angel we don't deserve, deb talan, everything in quotes is canon dialogue, gay disaster alex, give maggie a backstory 2k17, maggie is an angel we don't deserve, music as prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-10-10 19:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10445958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/performativezippers/pseuds/performativezippers
Summary: And then one night near the end of ninth grade, down in Eliza’s basement, just the two of them, Eliza reached over and brushed Maggie’s lip with her finger, impossibly slowly. You had some ash, she whispered, her finger lingering so long. Maggie forgot about the cigarette burning down in her fingers, forgot about the horror movie playing in the background. She felt alive, awake.She still has the scar from the cigarette, between the knuckles on her middle finger.The next week, she left Eliza a note in her locker, afraid to say it out loud but in so deep. Unraveled so far that she wasn’t sure where she began or ended. She wasn’t numb anymore. She was happy.And then it all came crashing down.So she understands why he kicked her out. She understands how he got to be so hard. She understands that his whole life, like his parents before him, was about making things better for her. Making her less of an outcast. Making her Maggie Sawyer, working-class Nebraskan, not Magdalena Sanchez, migrant Mexican.But she will never fully recover from it.





	1. How Will He Find Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1: Better for You
> 
> How Will He Find Me, Deb Talan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter of this fic is inspired and influenced and prompted by a song off Deb Talan's album "A Bird Flies Out." It's not a song fic in the way where that really matters - if you know the album that's cool but it doesn't matter at all. The lyrics are just prompts, really.
> 
> Lyrics are in bold italics.
> 
> The chapters will go roughly in order through the canon, but they're thematic so some of them cover a couple episodes worth of ground.
> 
> This first part, Better For You, is pre-canon.
> 
> Hope you like

_**if I don't stand out like a star among the moons** _

Alex was never one of those kids who got special treatment if they got all A’s. She didn’t get a ski trip or a special dinner, and she sure as hell never got paid for her grades. Straight A’s were the minimum expectation, really. If she got them, she’d get a _good job_ and, if she was lucky, a _see we told you that you could handle pre-calc even though you’re only 12_. 

If, god forbid, she didn’t get straight A’s – no matter the situation, no matter how hard the classes were or how high above her grade level they were, or how many assignments of hers the teacher had _lost_ which wasn’t her fault – she’d get a stern lecture. Always the same lecture, the one that started with _we’re disappointed in you Alexandra_ and ended with _we know you can do better than this_ and _you obviously need to try harder_. 

They never said why they were so hard on her, not openly. Once, after a terrible fight where she’d screamed at them that she didn’t want to take AP chemistry in 8th grade, why wouldn’t they let her be NORMAL, she’d heard her mother say to her father, angrily, _if we don’t push her, who will, her teachers??_ Like the idea was absurd, laughable. 

Once she was in the living room laughing with a couple of friends about how their teacher clearly hadn’t read their work well enough, because they’d all written their final reports in half an hour and all had gotten high marks. Her father pulled her out of the room, demanded to see her work, skimmed it right then and there, and then gave her the _look_. He told her he expected more from her, that she needed to hold herself to the highest standards because out in the world people would underestimate her. If she didn’t push herself, he said, his eyes sad, then she’d never reach her full potential. _I’m disappointed in you, Alexandra_ , he said, his face heavy. _I want you to do better than this_ , he said. _You’re better than this_ , he said. 

Alex always knew she was smart. She started doing middle school work in second grade, and it took all of her powers of persuasion to get her parents to agree that she should only start a private independent college-level study for math and science in high school, not in middle school. 

She understood what was expected of her: to excel, to exceed no matter how high the standards were. When she accomplished something, even something that was thought to be impossible for a child her age (not to mention a _girl_ ), the standards were simply pushed further. She could never succeed, not really. She could never rest, she had never worked hard enough. There was always something higher, something further, something better, something new to try for. 

She was never good enough. 

  
_**how will he find me** _  
_**with no one's arms to gather me together?** _  
_**how will he find me?** _  
_**only held by gravity, faded with uncertainty** _  
_**no longer young and not that pretty** _  
_**how will he ever find me?** _

In elementary school it was cool to care about school, about grades, about science. In middle school it was cool to care some, but you were also supposed to care about B-O-Y-S. Suddenly, those small snotty smelly shitty kids who had been universally acknowledged as _bothers_ were desirable. You had to have a crush at all times, Alex learned, and it was supposed to be a secret, but not from your best friends. You didn’t have to tell him, ever, if you didn’t want, but you had to have one you could point to and say, _there, that’s him, my crush_. 

Alex didn’t quite understand the alchemy of crushes. How did you know if you had one? Who were you supposed to have one on? What did it feel like? There were boys that she liked okay, that she respected enough in class, that she thought were kind of cute, so she figured that was it. 

So one day she was sitting with her friends on the blacktop, waiting for the PE teacher to finish calling roll. Just the day before she’d gotten teased for not having a crush, so she was taking the opportunity to look over her prospects and decide who her crush would be. She looked methodically up and down the rows of kids to find a boy who was decent looking, wasn’t a total jerk, was at least kind of smart, and wasn’t the crush of one of her friends. Daniel was the first one who fit her criteria. _Daniel it is_. 

She was purposefully slow to respond to Vicky, who was sitting right next to her. _Earth to Alex_ , she’d said. _Oh, sorry, I was just looking at my crush_ , Alex said, in a completely calculated gesture, wishing she could blush on command. It worked. Vicky squealed, and spent the rest of the period grilling her to find out who her crush was while Alex played hard to get. Vicky even told Sarah and the others to leave them alone, and Alex just fucking basked in having Vicky all to herself for the full hour, having Vicky’s full attention on her, having Vicky link their arms as they strolled alone around the field, absently kicking a soccer ball between them. Having Vicky make her feel special. 

Having a crush got her exactly what she wanted. Having a crush made her better.

  
_**it never seems to matter, the tears i cry** _  
_**there's a well inside of me that never runs dry** _  
_**from being born i guess, and born in life until we die** _

When Kara arrived, everything changed. Alex liked her, and she felt bad for her, and wanted to do her part to help Kara fit in. She thought that maybe having an orphaned alien in the house would take some of the pressure off of her, take some of the spotlight away and let her grow how she wanted to. 

But it didn’t. 

The spotlight only got brighter. Now she was responsible not only for herself but for Kara, not only for her own grades and behaviors but for how well Kara fit in, for Kara having friends, for Kara not melting down at the sound of the school bell, for Kara not talking about Krypton where people could hear her. 

She was drowning in balancing school – completing two AP-level classes in eighth grade – and friends – everything was so much more complicated now than when they were younger and could just unabashedly love each other – and boys – her new crush was _Rick_ , she’d decided – and Kara. 

Something had to go. 

She tried to drop Kara. She treated her badly, dragged her along to an outing at the beach that she certainly wasn’t ready for, because Rick had asked her to go and Vicky was going to the movies with Kyle and she understood that this was something she was supposed to say yes to, something she was supposed to want. 

And then Kara had been so weird, staring at the birds and spinning around, and then had sprinted off to save two people from a burning car. 

And Alex got the worst lecture of her life that night, still in her hospital bed, her stitches throbbing. It was Kara’s fault that she was in the hospital, Kara’s fault that she’d been anywhere near that exploding car, but she was the one who had whipped her mother into a nearly hysterical rage. 

And the worst part was, her mother was right. Alex hadn’t even wanted to be there, didn’t care about Rick or anyone else on that beach. Kara could have been hurt, could have been taken away from them. Kara had saved two human lives in a minute, and all Alex had done was let some stupid boy talk at her about trucks for twenty minutes. 

Kara was more valuable. Kara was more important. 

Alex had to hold herself to a higher standard now, to be worthy of Kara, to be better for her. To support her, to protect her. Alex had to be for Kara now. 

That night, she crept into Kara’s room and held her while she cried. _I was so worried about you_ , Kara said, _I was scared I’d lose you too_. Alex told her that they were family now, and Alex would protect her. She said it fiercely, _you’re not alone anymore_ and _you have me now_ and she stayed with Kara all night. 

Something had to go, and it was boys. 

  
_**i walk the world with a skin so thin** _  
_**i can wear no adequate protection** _  
_**everything comes crashing in** _  
_**if i'm too wide open for this place** _  
_**but not enough for her to recognize my face** _

And then it was friends. By the middle of senior year things with Vicky were awful, and everyone was getting so catty and Alex was sick of having to watch herself all the time, having to keep them away from her house and from Kara. Sick of watching Vicky just hand herself to any boy who looked at her. She deserved better, and Alex told her that, and Vicky pushed her away, and Alex didn’t fight back. 

Alex threw herself into her work, graduating high school with more than half of the credits she’d need to finish college. She jammed through college, graduating with a joint BS/MS in two and half years instead of five or six, and went directly into a PhD/MD program at National City University. 

And still, she wasn’t good enough. Still, she got the lecture. _Kara used her super hearing to listen to a lecture from her bed_ , her mother scolded her on the phone, like somehow this was Alex’s fault. _I’m disappointed in you, Alexandra_. 

And it hurt and it hurt and it hurt and she was never good enough, not at any of it. She held Kara all night as she cried about Krypton on her mother’s birthday and, exhausted, seriously messed something up in the lab. The damage to her project was extensive and she got reamed by her PI. 

Something had to go, and it was school. 

  
_**and what shall i do with a drunken heart**_  
_**with goggle eyes and the troubling hunger**_  
_**reaching forward to trick mirror men**_  
_**leaning out and in again**_

It was freeing, to drink. To dance, to party. She started to live for the feeling of a man’s eyes on her body, of being desperately wanted, of not remembering the details. She never wanted the men back, particularly, but she convinced herself that she did. She confused _wanting to be wanted_ with _wanting this particular person_ , each time. 

So she drank, and she danced, and to keep doing it she had to distance herself from Kara. 

“You can lift a car over your head. I’m just trying to keep up,” she said in a rare honest moment, something real about herself, but Kara didn’t quite get it.  
“I know having superpowers is hard,” she said, because Kara mattered more than she did.  
“You have to watch over yourself; I can’t police you 24/7 anymore,” she said, because it was true.  
“Now is not a good time,” she said.  
“We’ll talk later,” she said but she didn’t mean it.  
She hugged Kara less – less often and less close – in case she could smell the alcohol on her breath and oozing out of her pores. 

And she went on academic probation. 

So she drank more, and danced more, and lied more, and ended up in a jail cell. 

And then he found her. 

_**if i don't stand out like a star among the moons**_  
_**how will he find me**_  
_**with no one's arms to gather me together?**_  
_**how will he find me?**_  
_**only held by gravity, faded with uncertainty**_  
_**no longer young and not that pretty**_  
_**how will he ever find me?**_

Hank found her, and he understood. He understood that she was never good enough but that she could be. He told her she was smart and powerful and important. He set a standard for her and then he held it. “You’ll be ready when you can beat me,” he said, and he was true to his word. 

Alex excelled with Hank, without equivocation or conditions, without a _but_ at the end of a compliment. Hank looked at her and he saw her, he found her, and he held her together until she could do it herself. She became vivid, certain, strong, self-contained. 

Hank was her rock. Hank saved her life. Hank gave her a home, and a purpose. She served him with honor, and she was proud of that. She was proud of herself. 

Hank found her. 

And then she found herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I may be dating myself here, but Deb Talan really is the best. Back in my day, she was one of top folk people that us queer ladies listened to. She's currently one half of The Weepies. If you don't know her, you might want to.


	2. Unraveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1: Better for You
> 
> Unraveling
> 
> As always, lyrics from Deb Talan's "A Bird Flies Out" (2004)

**Unraveling**

 

It’s not like she doesn’t get it. It’s not like she doesn’t understand why he feels that way. Why he did what he did.

He came to the U.S. when he was four years old, carried across the desert in the dead of night by parents who just wanted life to be better. For him, for them, for his older siblings who took turns shushing him and keeping him hydrated. He spent his childhood, like so many others, as a migrant farm worker. Sent to pick grapes and tend to crops all across the southwest. It was a harsh life, harsher than his parents had imagined. He grew up hard. He had no other choice.

His father died when he was only eight, and he was orphaned when he was thirteen – both of his parents’ bodies succumbing to the endless rounds of injuries and illnesses that cooked under the unforgiving desert sun. Neither saw a single doctor in their entire lives.

He got harder. His oldest sister Rosa took him in, took him with her where she traveled. Then Rosa met and married Antonio. Antonio who was done with migrating, who was moving east, setting up a permanent base in Nebraska where, apparently, the winters were harsh but the land came cheap. Rosa went, and so Marco went too.

The winters were hard but the people were harder. White and strange and afraid of him, of them. The food was bland and there wasn’t a day that passed where he wasn’t reminded that he didn’t belong. Not white, not Nebraskan, not American. He stayed hard, kept his head down, and worked.

He met Juana in Lincoln when he was twenty and, bowing to the pressure of their families who were desperate for some Mexican, any Mexican, married her a few months later. They scraped together enough money to buy a plot of land in Blue Springs, a tiny community an hour due south with cheaper land and even whiter people. He started going by a new name there, sloughing off Marco Sanchez to become Mark Sawyer. Hoping that the name itself would be enough to ingratiate himself to the community.

It wasn’t.

He remained an outsider. Even when Rosa moved to Blue Springs after Antonio died, and couple of other cousins trickled into town, he remained separate. People called him Mark but never forgot he was Marco.

Juana got pregnant and had a baby. Marco wanted a boy, but was satisfied with a girl. _The next one will be a boy_ , he told himself. _She can help us take care of him when he comes_. They named her Magdalena – a compromise. A Spanish name with an English nickname. He refused to call her anything but Maggie, but Juana called her Magda.

He loved her, in his own way. Not like the American parents, who doted and fussed and spent and spent and spent, but he cared about her. He was hard but he loved her. He didn’t want her to be an outsider. He wanted it to be better for her.

When she was very young, it was cute how masculine she was, what a tomboy she was. _Just like Papa_ , he’d say. But then Juana miscarried and miscarried and miscarried, and after the fourth time the doctor told her that another attempt would kill her. And suddenly Marco would never have a son, would never have anyone to pass his land down to. This land, that he fought his whole life for. He got harder.

And Maggie didn’t grow out of it, kept coming home with scraped knees and twice set fire to the dresses Juana found at the dollar store. She was seven when he resigned himself to not having a son, and she felt him pull away from her. She knew she wasn’t white, she knew they were outsiders because they made tortillas and pupusas while everyone else at school made white cakes and ate sandwiches with mayonnaise. But she loved him, and she loved Juana, and she loved her aunts and uncles and cousins who lived in town, or in Lincoln. She was an outsider, and she knew it, but she was happy.

Until Eliza.

 

**_a river of tangled string_**  
_**you are unraveling**_  
_**and no one else seems to mind  
** _ **_you keep it to yourself, stay numb and act fine_**

She met Eliza the first day of seventh grade. They had all the same classes. Eliza was smart and sassy and different from everyone else. She wore thick eyeliner and torn jeans and never brought her own lunch from home in a cute little brown bag like all the other white girls. She was a rebel, an outcast, and Maggie loved her. She was the first person who really saw Maggie, who cared about her, who treated her like her skin color and her family and her lunches didn’t matter. Like _she_ mattered.

And then, over the next few years, Maggie started to realize that the way she felt about Eliza was different. Different from how she felt about all of Eliza’s other friends, whose circle Maggie had generously been brought into. Different from how those friends thought about Eliza. Different from how she was supposed to feel about a girl.

She knew the word “gay.” She heard it at home, along with a number of other words. She’d never seen a gay person before. She couldn’t really believe she was one, but it was so clear to her. Eliza was so clear to her.

She felt like she was unraveling. Like instead of a smooth ball of yarn, her whole life was actually just a tangled lump of string and Eliza was pulling at it, unraveling her, knot by knot. She tried to keep it to herself, to shake it off, to stay numb and act fine. To be normal. But she was unraveling.

And then one night near the end of ninth grade, down in Eliza’s basement, just the two of them, Eliza reached over and brushed Maggie’s lip with her finger, impossibly slowly. _You had some ash_ , she whispered, her finger lingering so long. Maggie forgot about the cigarette burning down in her fingers, forgot about the horror movie playing in the background. She felt alive, awake.

She still has the scar from the cigarette, between the knuckles on her middle finger.

The next week, she left Eliza a note in her locker, afraid to say it out loud but in so deep. Unraveled so far that she wasn’t sure where she began or ended. She wasn’t numb anymore. She was happy.

And then it all came crashing down.

So she understands why he kicked her out. She understands how he got to be so hard. She understands that his whole life, like his parents before him, was about making things better for her. Making her less of an outcast. Making her Maggie Sawyer, working-class Nebraskan, not Magdalena Sanchez, migrant Mexican.

But she will never fully recover from it.

 

**_take it from me it is no use  
_** **_washing your hands so often they are clean and cracked  
_ ** ******_you never get your old skin back_**

Rosa takes her in, not because she accepts that Maggie is gay but because she believes in family, in blood. In sacrifice. She’d raised Marco, taking him in when she was just nineteen and he was so hard and angry and alone. She doesn’t see this as much different.

And she cares about Maggie and she’s good to her, not warm or soft or overly loving, but she’s there and she keeps Maggie safe and housed and she makes the best tortillas in the family and Maggie tries to be okay. She shoves her feelings back down, tries to be numb to it. Tries to be numb when the other kids call her a faggot, a dyke, and try to hurt her body.

She gets the fuck out of Nebraska, leaving the day after graduation and swearing to never look back. She goes to college and meets girls and kisses girls and dates girls and loves girls but nothing makes her whole again, not really.

She can’t go back to how she was when she was young. Before puberty, before the miscarriages, before she started disappointing him. When she could be both Maggie and Magda and hadn’t had to pick one. She tries and she tries to scrub herself clean of the taint of Nebraska, of Marco, of Mark. But the more she scrubs, the more she washes her hands of him, the more cracked her hands become. Sure, she’s further from him, but at what cost? She’s never whole. He’s always with her. Disappointed, disapproving, disgusted. He’d wanted it to be better for her and she can’t ever make that up to him. She can’t ever get her old skin back. She cracks and she cracks and she cracks.

 

****_he is inside you, he loved your marrow_****  
****_you think you could cut him out with a knife_**  
** ****_if you went deep enough_**  
********_i don't think so_**

It’s not until her late twenties that she begins to accept that he’s always going to be part of her. That pushing as hard as she can, running as far as she can, fucking as many as she can, won’t dislodge him. Marco lives inside of her, inside the color of her skin and her taste buds and how, even after all of this time, her road rage always slips out in Spanish. How she always calls herself Maggie when sometimes, in the dead of night, she thinks of herself as Magda.

She’d spent over ten years trying to dig him out of her, like a bullet fragment lodged in her bone. Digging and twisting in her muscle and marrow to get him out, mutilating herself in her attempt to be clean and pure. To be free.

But she can’t. All she can do is live with him inside of her, live with her pain.

All she can do is try to keep herself from unraveling.

 


	3. Sincerely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1: Better For You
> 
> "Sincerely" by Deb Talan
> 
> This is a bit of a bonus chapter - the only one about Kara. I didn't mean for it to happen, I tried, but this song just really couldn't be about anything but Kara's parents putting their sweet little girl into that pod.

**Sincerely**

 

She hadn’t really understood what was happening when they put her in the pod.

She had known that she was going to a new planet to protect her baby cousin, who had already gone. She had known that her parents weren’t coming with her. She had known that Krypton was unstable.

They had probably thought that she had understood that they were all about to die, that she was going to be one of two survivors of her planet. But she hadn’t.

But how could she? How could any thirteen year old, especially one who had grown up wealthy and pampered and so deeply loved, understand that in an instant, everything she had ever known was going to be dead? That her mother and father and family and friends and enemies would all be burned to ash?

_**you will know it when you've gone too far** _  
_**your sight grows dim and narrow** _  
_**you cannot see the stars above you** _  
_**they love you in their far away way** _  
_**they ask you sincerely, to stay** _

Her pod had shot out into space, but within a couple of moments an explosion had knocked her into the Phantom Zone. She had looked desperately around, casting around for any familiar constellations. For the sight of Krypton, glowing bright in the light of its sun, behind her.

She couldn’t see anything. Just an inky darkness, infinitely reflecting the controls of her pod.

Her pod’s internal metrics were still working, and they began to put her into stasis.

She dreamt of her mother and father, their hair and clothes made of the fabric of space, shining with stars. They told her they loved her. They asked her to stay with them, to stay strong, to be brave. To be better, stronger, braver than they were.

She told them she loved them too.

But then something knocked her, and suddenly they looked harried. “Go,” her dream mother said.

And she woke up as her pod crashed into the earth.

_**he said, hold tight to your smile** _  
_**when it's dark outside, and you so fragile** _  
_**you won't see the ground** _  
_**but it will rise beneath** _  
_**you are steady on your feet** _  
_**until it hits you in the teeth** _

They had tried to prepare her for this new planet. They’d tried to tell her about the powers she would have, but they hadn’t known, really. She adapts slowly to Earth – to its gravity, its smell, the flavor of its air.

But it’s hard to adapt to herself. She has strength she can barely understand. She can see through things and set them on fire with her eyes and freeze them with her breath. She can hear the waves when she’s fifty miles from the beach. She can crush things in her hands and stop things with her body. She can fly.

It’s mind boggling.

Each day she tries to learn more, to control herself more, to learn more words, more ideas, to be less afraid. To be better at being human. The family she’s with are kind and patient and friendly, but she never feels steady. Every single day, something new rises up and kicks her in the teeth. The school bell, chopsticks, skin color, swimming, popcorn, hyperbole, prejudice.

She tries to smile, to be the person she was before. A happy, smart, mature kid who loved freely and was loved. But it’s hard. She’s the strongest girl on Earth, but she’s so fragile.

_**buildings hurtle by the train as you ride** _  
_**you don't know where, you don't know why** _  
_**all you can do is dry your eyes, cry like a little child** _  
_**sometimes it takes a while to be born** _

As she gets older, it gets easier. She gets better. It takes time, but she gets the hang of Earth. Of her body, of chopsticks. Time helps, but Alex helps the most. She loves Alex so hard, so fiercely, and it dims how much she misses her family. She hasn’t replaced them, it’s not like that at all, but she doesn’t feel so raw anymore. Alex fills her up, keeps her safe, helps her grow.

Sometimes, on special dates or when something reminds her in a particular way, she still breaks down. She cries – sobs, sometimes. But someone is there: Eliza, usually, Alex, always. Sometimes she feels lost, like she’ll never understand this planet or this species or this ache inside of herself. It takes a while, to become almost-human.

But Alex always forgives her. _I’ve had sixteen years to get used to this planet, and it still messes me up_ , she says. _I love you_ , she says. _I’m so happy you’re here with us_ , she says. _Come with me to the roof and tell me again about Krypton_ , she says.

Alex sacrifices for her, and Kara knows it. Alex works and works to make things better for her – she lies and cheats and steals and manipulates and Kara sees it, and sees that Alex seems to be losing friends and closing in on herself, but she brushes it off when Kara mentions it. _I just want it to be better for you_ , she says. _I love you_ , she says, and sometimes that makes Kara grin and sometimes it makes her cry.

And it takes a while, but she and Alex don’t call each other adopted sisters anymore. Just sisters. It took a while to be fully born into the family, but Kara knows, lying up on the roof, hand in hand with Alex, that she’s home.

_**she said, look up, once in a while** _  
_**she said, remember things that always remain** _  
_**blossoms in the spring, birds remember to sing** _  
_**and you will do the same** _

Her mother had a harsh job. The type of job that could have made her hard. And it did, Kara learned much later. It made her into the type of person who could arrest her twin in cold blood, who could stand by and let her planet be destroyed. Who could send her own daughter off into space because it would statistically be safer than letting her stay and die on Krypton, even though she was guaranteeing her a desperately lonely and dangerous life.

But her mother had also been a woman who loved beauty, and poetry, and being with her family. She had loved plants, and when the weather would change. She had loved the view from their windows. She had loved sitting with Kara tucked into her side, taking turns reading poems or pages out loud.

And Kara tries to be like her. To look out of her window and appreciate the ocean, even when she’s accidentally destroyed another desk at school. To notice when the flowers are blooming, even when Alex has left for college and she can’t stop feeling like she’s back in her pod, cold and completely alone. To let herself be amazed by birds, even after she’s been on Earth for ten years and has gotten pooped on more than once.

_**you cannot see the stars above you** _  
_**they love you in their far away way** _  
_**they ask you sincerely, to stay** _

She thinks of her mother when she uproots her whole life to move to National City to be near Alex again, because she is the one who came from space but Alex is the miracle.

Alex reminds her that even when the stars seem dim, even when everyone else she has ever loved is far away and gone, someone loves her. Someone’s life is better because she is in it. Someone will always be there to reach out to her, to ask her to stay with them, to tell her that they love her.


	4. To the Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2: I Think I Read You Wrong
> 
> "To the Bone" by Deb Talan from "A Bird Flies Out" (2004)
> 
> this one is my favorite

**To the Bone**

 

Maggie surprises her.

Not just her physical presence at the airport – which was, for the record, absolutely Alex’s crime scene – but herself. The type of cop she turns out to be. The first meeting is all claws and posturing, and Alex sort of can’t believe that Maggie walks away from the confrontation so quickly. “See you around, Danvers,” she says, and Alex can’t help watching her walk away. She likes her confidence, her swagger. Her whole vibe seems to say _I’m better at this than you, but I don’t give a shit if you know it_. Alex would kill for that vibe, for that to be true for herself.

_**your smile pierced my skin and traveled out again** _   
_**a rogue bullet passing through every vital organ** _

Maggie really surprises her, so much that she nearly shoots a bazooka at her, in the warehouse. Maggie figures out quickly, more quickly than anyone ever has, that she’s DEO. Maggie somehow tracked the rogue alien to a warehouse without any of the DEO’s equipment or tracking bracelets. She came in without a bazooka and somehow she still has the upper hand.

Alex doesn’t like to be bested, so she walks away as fast as she can. But she thinks about it, a lot, and wonders about Maggie. She finds Maggie compelling; she wonders if she might want to be more like Maggie – wear more leather, smirk more, care less.

Maggie completely surprises her when she calls. First of all, how the hell did she get Alex’s number? Its not like Alex is in the phone book, or the DEO has a searchable directory online. But she finds the number and she calls and she invites Alex out for some police work. And Alex can’t help but change her clothes, putting on jeans and leather and she’s happy to have her bike with her today.

She pulls up to the bar and Maggie greets her and name drops her own bike, and she’s wearing basically the exact same thing as Alex, and Alex wonders fleetingly if she’s already too similar to Maggie to want to be like her this much. But then Maggie bangs on the door and they walk in and everything Alex has believed about National City is pulled out from under her.

And she surprises herself by how cool she’s able to act. About the aliens, about Maggie’s hand on her arm, about seeing her first Roltikkon, about Maggie coming out to her. Each of these is a huge revelation that leaves her reeling, but she focuses on the mission. On Maggie.

At the President’s speech, they’re in matching outfits again. Alex can’t help but peek over at Maggie, right when the President starts talking. She doesn’t know why. She just likes the feeling of standing there in the sunshine, tall in her combat boots, arms crossed in front of herself, steadied by the gun at her back and her sister up in the air, next to Maggie. Maggie, who is standing tall herself in leather and a gray shirt, beaming up at the President. Maggie, who accepts aliens without having grown up with one. Maggie who keeps surprising her. She just likes the feeling of being here, next to her.

And then Maggie is taken by the fire woman and Alex surprises herself by beating the shit out of that pretty nice and helpful guy at the bar. She doesn’t mean to be so aggressive, to word-vomit so much at him, to assault him with furniture, but there is a gripping at her chest that she vaguely recognizes as panic.

She and Kara bust into the foundry and she feels her panic ease a little at the sight of Maggie, trussed up but unharmed. She cuts her down and tries to get her to run before she goes to relieve Kara.

_**now i am an ache, that fell into a hole** _   
_**and you were the sky, you opened wide** _   
_**soaked to the bone, i'm so cold** _

And then Maggie swings a pipe like a cleanup batter and knocks the fire woman out, and Alex is more surprised than she’s ever been. Not just by Maggie’s timing, or her swing, or her face-splitting grin. “Oh,” Kara says, having forgotten Maggie was still in the room. “Oh,” Alex says, because she’s never felt anything like this before. Something is tugging and pulling at her, deep in her gut, making her smile and exhale with more force than usual. She wants to just look at Maggie, she wants to rush over and put her hands on her, she wants to replay that swing over and over in her mind.

At the DEO she patches Maggie up, grateful for a couple of quiet moments alone to just be next to her. Talking with Maggie seems to make her flustered, to trip her up in ways she hasn’t experienced in years. But just working next to her, treating her burn and double-checking her collarbone, she feels in command of herself for the first time since the airport.

Maggie surprises her when she says, “I don’t really do well with partners, but I think we made a pretty good team.”

But then Maggie gets up to leave, and Alex just wants to be next to her for longer, wants Maggie to stay. “You should really get some rest,” she says, like a first-degree burn and a bruise are a big deal. “You can stay here if you want,” she says, and she doesn’t care that it’s weird and desperate and certainly against protocol because she’s never wanted a moment to just stay put like this before.

But Maggie puts on her jacket, and Alex tries to laugh it off, “What, you got a hot date or something?”

And Maggie surprises her when she says, “Actually, I do, and I don’t want to keep the lady waiting.”

And Alex isn’t _really_ surprised, when she thinks about it, that Maggie has a hot date. She’s beautiful, and young, and tough, and really fucking smart, and can say things like “this place is sick” without sounding ridiculous. Alex is surprised by how she _feels_ about it.

By how alone she feels, in this place where she rarely wants company. By how sad she is to see Maggie go after just a few days of knowing her, when usually it takes her at least a year to not be actively annoyed by someone. By how she can’t stop wondering about what it would feel like to reach out and pull Maggie’s hair out of the collar of her jacket, to sit across a table from her at a restaurant and watch her muscles flex in that tank top.

By how suddenly cold it feels in the med bay.

 

_**can't say goodbye, we never really met** _   
_**you just burnt my bed and tore out the stars** _   
_**and kissed my forehead** _

Alex doesn’t know what’s happening, but the next week or so is a whirlwind. Every time she turns around, it seems like Maggie is there. First an invitation to a crime scene, where Alex sort of can’t believe they work so well together. Then an invitation to meet Maggie somewhere and “wear something nice,” which leaves her in a forty-five minute full-out panic in the DEO’s undercover wardrobe room (another benefit of the pretty new base).

And then, of course, she sees Maggie in that dress. And Alex is a trained secret agent so, after their first meeting at the airport, she could have rattled off Maggie’s approximate height and weight and probably bought her clothes that would have fit like a glove. She’d treated Maggie’s burn with Maggie in just a tank top. She’s seen her body before. But nothing could prepare her for this. For the way that her eyes just zero in on the swaths of skin visible on either side of Maggie’s dress, held in only by the smallest of laces. For the way she has to drag her eyes off Maggie’s exposed neck, only to notice her long legs and fuck-me heels. For the way Maggie’s hair – curled and delicate – and her makeup makes her seem younger, softer. For the way that her own heart seems to be jumping out of her body, trying to thud itself over to Maggie.

For the way she can’t really say anything at all, because the only word bouncing around in her brain is _beautiful_.

For the way that Maggie reaches over and takes her hand, giving her a second to get used to it, before pulling her into the building. For the way that she can’t help but look, twice, down at their hands to see if it’s really happening. To check if she’s actually on fire or if it’s just synesthesia. She’s not sure what’s happening, but she knows that nothing like this has ever happened to her in her life.

_**i wish you'd let me in, i'm bleeding here outside your door** _

It’s not until later, when she gathers her courage and, for once in her fucking life, puts herself out there and asks Maggie out for a drink – and Maggie doesn’t just reject her, she rejects her and kisses someone else, she rejects her and kisses someone else who she calls _babe_ – that Alex starts to understand what is happening.

And then Maggie gets dumped, and Alex can’t believe it. Maggie’s whole vibe has changed, she’s vulnerable and sad and hurt, and Alex is just losing it. She knows she isn’t saying the right thing, or doing the right thing, and she’s distracted at work, and even Winn notices.

And she hates, she _hates_ , that it’s Winn who says it out loud first, even though he says it in the negative. “It’s not like you’re into this Maggie person,” he says, like it’s preposterous.

And Alex hasn’t even been able to think that to herself yet, so she just hugs herself and tries not to think about it. Tries not to feel so cold.

_**can't say goodbye, we never really met** _   
_**you just burnt my bed and tore out the stars** _   
_**and kissed my forehead** _

_**now i am an ache, that fell into a hole** _   
_**and you were the sky, you opened wide** _   
_**soaked to the bone, i'm so cold** _

And she wants so badly to help, to be around Maggie. She remembers that the best moments of high school were after Vicky would break up with her boy of the moment, or would get dumped, and she’d show up at Alex’s house and they’d stay up all night watching movies and talking and, when they were older, sneaking booze and sometimes holding hands. And Vicky would sleep in her bed and stay by her side all day at school and Alex would be so happy.

And she hadn’t understood that then, not really. She thought she was just happy to be Vicky’s first priority again, because they were best friends. And now she’s starting to understand that maybe that wasn’t all of it, that maybe there was something else there too. But she can’t stop herself from associating the two – a friend breaking up and special bonding time that fills holes in herself that ache every day otherwise.

So she practically chases Maggie down the street and begs her to hang out, to forget Jen and spend all day by her side.

And then Maggie says it, and Alex isn’t proud of how she freaks out.

Maggie says, “I think I read you wrong,” and Alex is confused.

Maggie says, “I didn’t know you were into girls,” and she just waits, with a little smile.

And Alex says “I’m not” as fast as she can because this cannot be happening, not on this busy street, not when she’s still so confused, not when it’s so new, not when she still has no idea if she wants to _be_ Maggie or be _with_ Maggie in ways she never considered. Not when she still doesn’t have any data on if this is what a crush is supposed to be feel like, if this is what she was supposed to have been feeling for twenty years.

And Maggie walks it back, says “Sorry, my bad,” and then says “I get it, you’re not gay,” and it’s the first time Alex has ever heard that word about herself, even though it’s in the negative, and she completely loses it.

She’s not ready for this.

And Maggie pushes, just one more time. “You’d be surprised how many gay women I’ve heard that from,” she says, like she can see into Alex’s brain.

And Alex can’t get over that Maggie may have just called her a _gay woman_ and she can’t think. She’s frozen.

And Maggie can tell, so she apologizes again, and all Alex can do is try to make enough sounds so that when she walks away she doesn’t seem like a coward.

Like a confused, gay coward.

Like Maggie hasn’t just changed Alex’s entire world. Hasn’t just burned her life down around her, torn the very stars from the sky, destroyed the very scientific constants that keep Alex balanced. Like she hasn’t just dug a hole and then shoved Alex into it. Like she hasn’t created a torrential rainfall over just Alex. Like she hasn’t just confirmed that Alex doesn’t want to be _like_ Maggie, she wants to be _with_ Maggie. Like she hasn’t just made Alex realize that her heart has been shouting at her for days, yelling _I want to make you mine_ over and over like a heartbeat. Like she hasn’t upset the meticulous equilibrium that was Alex Danvers.

_**can't say goodbye, we never really met** _

And Alex walks away, and Maggie is brand new to her life but may know her better than Kara does. Better than she herself does.

She’s not even sure she’s ever really met herself before.


	5. Coda: How Will She Find Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2: Read You Wrong
> 
> Coda: How Will She Find Me
> 
> "How Will He Find Me," by Deb Talon from "A Bird Flies Out" (2004)

## Coda: How Will She Find Me

_**if i don't stand out like a star among the moons** _   
_**if i am always late and she always backs away too soon** _

She doesn’t know why she’s surprised when it happens. Sure, she’d put in more effort for this one than she had in years. Sure, she’d briefly considered the idea that what she had with Jen was real, had the potential to be something real. Sure, Jen was beautiful and smart and compelling and had liked Maggie for more than her ass and her gun and her long tongue.

But it had ended. It had ended like it always ended. Jen had thrown up her hands, backed away, and said she was done.

Actually, she’d said more than that.

**_i walk the world with a skin so thin_ **   
**_i can wear no adequate protection_ **   
**_everything comes crashing in_ **   
**_if i'm too wide open for this place_ **

Jen said she was head-headed and insensitive. Jen said she was obsessed with work. Jen said she was borderline sociopathic. Jen said she never wanted to see her again.

She hadn’t thought any of those things were true about herself, before.

She had thought that she was a good listener, that she was always willing to change her mind if an argument was convincing enough. Her whole life is about not being Marco, about giving people the space to live the life they wanted, to be who they were. She has always thought of herself as flexible, chill, kind to others.

But she must have been wrong.

She cares about work, of course she does. Her job is important, and she loves it. And yes, her job os life and death sometimes, if she’s tracking a killer or a kidnapper or a terrorist set on eliminating aliens. But there are also days where she never sees the field. Days of paperwork and briefings and taking meticulous notes on memos about different species. And she’s always so careful to leave those days at work, to put on her jacket by 5:30, 6 at the latest, to come home to Jen or out to the bar, to play pool and have a drink and have work/life balance. She had thought she was really good at that, really considerate and really careful with herself.

But she must have been wrong.

She had known she was damaged from her childhood, from Marco, from Juana, from Eliza, from that fucking town. But she had thought it had made her a better person, a more generous person. She wanted it to be better for everyone around her. She’d gone to therapy, she’d journaled about her feelings, she meditates sometimes. She knows she can’t cure the damage, but she’d thought she was managing it remarkably well.

But she must have been wrong.

_**how will she find me** _   
_**with no one's arms to gather me together?** _   
_**how will she find me?** _   
_**only held by gravity, faded with uncertainty** _   
_**no longer young and not that pretty** _   
_**how will she ever find me?** _

So she doesn’t quite know where this leaves her. This breakup feels different from all the others she’s had. Yes, she liked Jen and she misses Jen and she wishes they were still together. But it also feels like Jen was saying to her, _this will never happen for you_. Like Jen was saying, _you’re too broken to be loved_. Was saying, _you’re too broken to love_. Was saying, _you nearly broke me and you would have if I hadn’t stopped you_.

And all that’s happening is Maggie is getting older, and her joints are getting creakier and if she doesn’t stretch after a run she hobbles for days. And Maggie is less sure now than she’s ever been that this will happen for her. She has more scars, each failed relationship making her harder and harder and more brittle. She’s more afraid, more uncertain. She’s losing herself, and she knows that won’t help.

And she wants this, wants a life with a woman by her side that she loves and protects and makes happy. A best friend, a partner, a wife. That thing, that totally normative thing that it isn’t really cool for a lesbian to want this badly – she wants it.

_**and if i'm wasting my time** _   
_**how will she find me?** _

But if Jen was right – and why wouldn’t Jen have been right – then she’s been wasting her time. The only thing that’ll happen is that she’ll just keep hurting everyone around her. The next girl, and then the next, and the next, will be drawn to her because of her ass and her gun and her long tongue and they’ll fall into her life and her bed and then she’ll hurt them, like she hurt Jen. She’ll be insensitive and hard-headed and borderline sociopathic and obsessed with work and she’ll destroy them and they’ll leave.

_**if i am always late and she always backs away too soon** _

So it kind of seems like the only move is to keep herself away from anyone she could hurt.


	6. Tell Your Story Walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2: I Think I Read You Wrong
> 
> Tell Your Story Walking
> 
> "Tell Your Story Walking" by Deb Talan on "A Bird Flies Out" (2004).
> 
> This one spans a lot of episodes, but don't worry, we'll be circling back to The-White-Shirt-Pull-The-Forearm-Pretty-Smooth-For-A-Babygay-Kiss in Part 3

** Tell Your Story Walking **

 

Alex doesn’t talk a lot.

She’d always been a kind of quiet kid, more likely to be reading or calculating or experimenting or listening than chattering. And, of course, once Kara arrived it was pretty hard to get in a word in edgewise. Alex would have expected a traumatic kid to be silent – in the movies survivors of genocides or of great wars were always quiet grim people who suffered in silence.

Not Kara.

If she could have, she would have told everyone in school all about Krypton, every day, for hours. She loved to share: her feelings, her memories, her annoyances. Nothing was too small to be said, too stupid to be asked, too annoying to be spoken.

And that just wasn’t the way Alex was built. And Alex adapted to it, got used to saying more than usual, in being a part of more conversations than usual. Kara learned boundaries for when Alex actually need to give her full brain to her homework – which certainly wasn’t all of the time – and, otherwise, Alex learned how to be supportive, how to show that she cared, how to give advice.

But she didn’t say much to people who weren’t Kara. She learned, after her father died, to say as little as possible to her mother, because anything could be taken as an excuse to subtly berate her, to yell at her, to accuse her of not taking care of Kara well enough. She didn’t say much to friends in high school because they didn’t make much sense to her, anymore. She didn’t have many friends in college or grad school, not close ones anyway, because she went so fast and was so brilliant and worked so hard.

So even as an adult, Alex didn’t say much. And when she did talk, it was careful, calculated. Alex always spoke like she had a 40 word limit per conversation, so she had better use them thoughtfully. Kara could get more out of her, of course, and Kara was the only person who she’d talk to when she was upset or unbalanced.

So the compulsion to just talk, the way that some people just opened their mouths and words seemed to fall out, without having passed through their brains, wasn’t something she’d ever experienced.

Until Maggie.

_**outside the church that's so quiet it dares you to shout** _   
_**you put a hand to your mouth to stop the rain** _   
_**you do a st. vitus dance, to the sky you raise your voice** _

Maggie makes her stutter and sputter and make all kinds of psssht and pffft sounds. Maggie trips her up, and she is constantly, constantly, saying too much. To her, about her, around her. It’s never happened to her before, and she relives every conversation afterwards in Technicolor embarrassment. _Did I really flap my hands around and talk about her shoes and her hair instead of just telling her she looked good?_ _Did I really say “who would dump YOU?” and then awkwardly laugh while following after her like a puppy? Did I really invite her to a “cool pinball bar”?_

And then Maggie says, “I didn’t know you were into girls” and Alex can’t shut herself up. She babbles, loud and fast and urgent, talking over and around Maggie in ways she never has before in her life.

_**this is your chance, you have no choice** _   
_**tell your story** _

For the first time ever, she needs to talk something out. She’s never been that person, someone who needs to talk about something to figure it out, to figure herself out. But this is huge. If she is…that thing…oh god. She can’t even say it, can’t think it, but somehow she needs to talk. She needs Kara to babble about it, and maybe babble a little herself.

So she gathers herself and goes to Kara’s apartment, nibbling on a donut for confidence.

But, first Kara has to vent about her pet Daxamite, and then, right when Alex is finally about to say it, they’re interrupted. Lena Luthor walks in, and Alex immediately and smoothly lies to her, and the moment is broken.

**_tell your story, tell it, tell it_ **   
**_tell your story to anyone who'll listen_ **   
**_tell your story, don't stop talking_ **

Alex hears about what happened with Maggie’s prisoners. She hurries to the alien bar as soon as she can, intent on giving what comfort she can. She remembers what it was like, before Kara knew she was in the DEO, when something unfathomably terrible would happen and she would have to cope alone. She remembers wishing there were just one person in the world who could understand her day, her life, her job.

She’s a disaster, but she wants to be that for Maggie.

She finds her, and she tries to keep it short and clear. “I heard what happened,” she says. “I was worried about you,” she says.

And then Maggie apologizes for what she’d said the other day. “It wasn’t my place,” she says. She doesn’t say she was wrong, she doesn’t call Alex out on her babbling or her fleeing, and Alex just can’t stop herself. She sits, she looks at Maggie, and she just…tells her.

“My whole life has been about being perfect. Perfect grades, perfect job, being the perfect sister. Taking care of Kara. But the one part of my life that I have never been able to make perfect – was dating. I just never really liked it. I don’t know, I mean I, I tried, I, I got asked out. I just, I never liked…being intimate. I just, I don’t know, I thought maybe that’s just not the way that I was built, you know. That’s just not my thing. I never, I never thought that it was because of, the other, the, that, maybe I, I mean, I don’t. I don’t know. Now, now I just, I can’t, I can’t stop, thinking about…”

“About what?” Maggie asks, her voice gentle. Her face calm and open and warm and loving.

Alex has just now said more words at once than she ever has in her life, but there is one word she can’t quite get to yet. “That maybe there’s some truth to what you said,” she says instead.

And Maggie pushes, calmly and warmly and gently. “About?”

And Alex gives her a _look_ , because she knows what Maggie is doing, but she just can’t yet. “What you said. About me.”

And she understands why people like to talk about things, why people babble, why it’s called venting. Because she feels lighter than she ever has. She smiles a little as she stands, placing a hand firmly on the table in lieu of a hug or touching Maggie’s shoulder. “I have to go,” she says. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she says, and she means it for both of them.

 

_**tell your story, tell it, tell it** _   
_**tell your story to anyone who'll listen** _   
_**tell your story, don't stop talking** _   
_**just tell your story walking** _

After she tells Maggie, she tells Kara. She takes her on a walk to the river, and she still doesn’t have the words yet, but she can’t stop herself. “I want to talk to you about something,” she says. “Something about me,” she adds, because that’s never really been the case before.

And then she just…tells her. She has to take a lot of breaks, and she gets overwhelmed, and she’s terrified, but there is something about walking with her sister, speaking a truth (or coming close to it) in a way she never has in her life that is so freeing.

And she’s proud of herself. It feels selfish, in way, pulling Kara out of work just to listen to Alex talk about herself. And selfish has never been something that Alex has liked being. Selfless has always been the goal: perfect, selfless, dedicated. Big sister, special agent, doctor. But today, she did this.

“Maggie thought that I should tell you,” she says, almost defensively.

“And so I did,” she says, because she can barely believe it.

“I just, I just…did,” she says because she’s proud of herself.

But it doesn’t go great. Kara says the word twice right off the bat, nearly making Alex flinch. Kara has a lot of questions and she seems…disappointed. And it’s a blow and it hurts and Alex is frustrated and hurt and alone.

And Alex doesn’t mean to, but she tells Kara a little bit about Vicky and she feels the words pour out of herself again and she hears herself saying things that make so much sense, that connect all of these dots that had just been a jumble inside of herself forever. And everything that she’s ever felt has been shoved down and now she’s able to say it, to tell it, and it makes her feel lighter and it also makes her feel like a fucking idiot. She’s a bioengineer, a geneticist, a doctor two ways, and the evidence is overwhelming, and she hadn’t known. She’d been in love with Vicky for years and she hadn’t known, and she had thought that the way you had a crush was to logically pick one from a lineup, but the reality is that being around Maggie is like being hit with freight train.

So she walks away and she’s devastated because right now, after Kara has rejected her, what she needs most of all is Kara.

_**and it's a sorry, frightful thing** _   
_**when you want to cry, but you can't keep from laughing** _

It isn’t until later, after Alex has tracked Kara down in her apartment, that she realizes Kara wasn’t disappointed in her, but in herself. Kara babbles a little about their childhood and her own feelings. She apologizes for not giving Alex space to wonder about this, to talk about it, to ask. “There’s never been room for you,” Kara says, “and that’s my fault.”

And it’s true, really.

“I know how lonely that can make you feel,” she says. “You’re not alone,” she says, and Alex starts to cry.

“I can’t do this without you,” she says, because that has been true every day of her life since she was fourteen.

“You don’t have to,” Kara says, because the one person who has always been right next to her since she landed on Earth is Alex.

“So what about Maggie?” Kara asks, smiling indulgently at her like nothing has changed. “What’s she like?”

And when Kara says “Maggie,” all Alex can think is _I want to make her mine_. And Alex can’t help but light up, to smile, to laugh a little because she’s said more words in the last week than ever in her life, but Maggie leaves her speechless. “I, uh. I don’t know, **_I just like her so much_** , you know?” She looks over at Kara, and Kara smiles like she knows. Like she knows that Alex has never come close to feeling like this about another person in her life. “She’s smart, and she’s tough, and she’s just…beautiful. She’s so beautiful.”

And she’s close to crying again, and Kara plays with her hair, and then pulls her into a hug, and she can’t decide if she should cry or laugh because she’s so happy and relived and she still hasn’t said it and Kara is exactly the sister she wants.

And then Kara says, “I’ll go get the alien, you get the girl,” and all Alex can do is drop her hand over her eyes and laugh because she just did it, she just told her, and she’s okay.

 

_**this is your chance, you have no choice  
** _ _**tell your story** _

Alex gets better at it. The experience of being this way gets dramatically worse; she miscalculates, she makes a mistake, she misreads a situation. She’s devastated, humiliated, destroyed.

But she gets better at talking about it.

She’s a nervous wreck about telling Eliza. She decides to do it at Thanksgiving, simply because her expectations for that day are already at zero. She drinks too much (although not as much as she would have, if Kara hadn’t interfered) and threatens to kill Winn and James for trying to steal her moment. “I have something very important to say,” she hisses at them, but that’s as close as she can come.

“I couldn’t sleep a wink last night! I can’t wait,” Winn whines, and Alex wants to kill him because she hasn’t been able to sleep in weeks and everything she has ever believed about herself is wrong and she isn’t sure that she’s ever met herself and she’s desperately in love with Maggie and can’t stop picking apart her life to find other girls she may have been in love with and Kara is supportive but her mother has never been anything like supportive and this beer is almost empty and she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep this inside of herself.

And at the table she’s much drunker than she probably should be, especially because she’s on her third type of alcohol, but she still cuts to the chase faster than ever before. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this much like myself, than right now,” she manages to say before a giant hole is ripped in the universe right in front of her.

And if that isn’t a metaphor for what this whole month has felt like, nothing is.

It turns out that she shouldn’t have worried so much, though, because apparently she’s been looser lipped on the phone with her mom than she realized. “Does it have anything to do with Maggie?” Eliza asks gently. “You mention her a lot.”

“Why is it so hard for you to tell me?” Eliza asks, like their entire relationship hasn’t been about pushing Alex to be better, stronger, smarter. Like Alex hasn’t always had to stop herself from telling her mom most of her thoughts and feelings.

“I feel like I’m letting you down, somehow,” Alex says, because that’s true every day of her life.

“Why would your being gay ever let me down?” And it’s the first time she hasn’t denied it when someone has said the word to her and that feels like a big step.

“I love you,” Eliza says. “However you are.” And she pulls Alex into a hug and, even though Alex really didn’t say much, she’s so happy.

 

_**tell your story, tell it, tell it** _

The first time she says the word, it’s later that night in the med bay. She’s just had a scare – she knew from the moment she saw Maggie that everything was fine, that it wasn’t a serious injury, but Kara’s voice on the phone had been skittish and Alex had worried.

But now she’s stitched Maggie up, and she says the word, and she can’t believe how hard it was but she’s so proud of herself. “This is my new normal,” she says, because it is. “And I’m happy that it is,” she says, because she is. “I finally get me,” she says, because she does.

 

**_tell it, tell it_ **

She learns to say it faster and faster, as time goes on. And having a Maggie to point to certainly doesn’t hurt the whole brevity thing.

“Hey guys,” she says at the bar, trying not to seem too nervous as her eyes flick between James, Winn, and J’onn. “You all remember Maggie, right?”

Just seven words, and the men in her life get it. They see her, they hear her, and they’re happy for her.

When Mon-El walks over, she beats her own record. “Maggie and I are dating,” she says. Five words.

But being around Maggie still makes her say things she probably shouldn’t, so in her relief that everyone is accepting, she babbles. “Not everybody supports ladies lovin’ ladies.”

And she’s pretty sure she’s going to be hearing about that one for years.


	7. A Bird Flies Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3: I've Been Wanting to Do That
> 
> A Bird Flies Out
> 
> "A Bird Flies Out," by Deb Talan, from "A Bird Flies Out" (2004)

Alex kisses her.

Alex kisses her and Alex wants her. She knows; she’s not blind. Alex has been tripping all over herself around her, and Maggie’s seen her in the field enough to know that it’s not Alex’s default setting to be so...earnest.

But still. She’s not expecting the kiss. She’s expecting to dance around it for a couple of months until Alex finds someone better, someone stronger, someone more whole. Some hot blonde white girl, probably, maybe a tall corporate lawyer in a pencil skirt, or an artist with long swishy hair who uses natural deodorant but still smells good.

Maggie doesn’t expect Alex to reach out, to pull her in, to kiss her like she isn’t afraid.

Maggie is always afraid.

 

_**i'm in a red dress waiting for a reason** _  
_**holding a tightly packed suitcase** _

Maggie always has one foot out the door. Borderline sociopathic, right? And she gets where Jen was coming from, she understands why she was dumped. Why she’s always dumped.

Because the second Alex kisses her her mind does the same thing it always does. She packs her bags and stands her ground and pushes, insistently. She’s never the one to walk away, but she’s always the reason. It’s always her choice when things end. She’s just a fucking coward, so she always makes them do it. When she sees the end coming she closes herself off, or cheats, or hurts them. She pushes.

She makes them leave her.

It’s toxic as fuck, and it’s always about Marco, always still about Marco, and it’s masochistic, but she makes them kick her out, makes them walk away from her. She gathers herself into a tightly packed suitcase and just waits to be kicked out. She knows she isn’t good enough, that she’s going to end up destroying this person and this relationship in front of her, so she pushes. So she packs and she pushes and she waits.

So Alex kisses her and she pulls back and she pushes.

And Alex walks away.

And she’s an asshole and she’s weak and she’s fucked up, so she opens her mouth again. “Don’t go,” she says, like this isn’t a situation completely of her own making.

And Alex keeps walking, and Maggie honestly can’t blame her.

_**and maybe i'm too jaded to love somebody like you** _  
_**maybe i want to love my dream that'll never come true** _

And it hurts, when Alex walks. Maybe more than when Jen kicked her out, which doesn’t make any sense because she’d been trying to build something real with Jen and Alex is brand fucking new. But it hurts.

_**the cigarette sputters, a tired reluctant burn** _

But Maggie knows that Alex is...not pure, exactly, not innocent. She’s killed. She’s hard, in a lot of ways. But she’s never had her heart broken, she’s never had someone come into her life and her bed and her heart who is broken, and who breaks her. Alex has had it tough, she’s been tough, but her heart—her sweet, romantic, gay little heart—is still in its original packaging and Maggie won’t be the one to rip it open and ruin it. Maggie’s jagged edges would shred her to bits. Maybe there’s a universe where Maggie could change, could soften, could love her right.

But she’s too realistic. Too jaded. She’s been ripped apart too many times. And so even though Alex is different, even though the spark she feels for Alex is something that reminds her of a dark night in a quiet basement — making the scar on her finger tingle – she can’t. Dreams don’t come true. She would destroy Alex, and she won’t.

_**and someone who is real, who gets in the way** _  
_**and moves inside my heart, not just my head** _  
_**interfering with how i want to feel** _  
_**how do i want to feel, how do i want to feel?** _

And Maggie expects that they’ll go back to being friends, with a bit of barrier between them, sure, but they’ll work together and they’ll play pool and maybe they’ll flirt a little bit, and then Alex will start dating the lawyer or the artist, and Maggie will try to numb herself to this new hole in her heart.

And she tries, to be friends. She calls and texts. And Alex avoids her but she keeps coming back. Keeps calling.

She corners Alex in the bar and doesn’t miss how Alex freezes, just for a second, when she hears her voice. “It’s been a hot minute,” she says, because Alex hasn’t called her days. And Alex introduces her around and Alex is nervous and Kara smiles at her with murder in her eyes and Maggie can’t understand why she’s standing there, letting the little sister of this random girl shoot daggers at her when she could have just stayed away.

She means to leave, but instead she says, “Can I borrow you a minute?” and pulls Alex into the corner of the bar.

“I’ve been worried about you,” she sort of can’t believe she actually says.

“I wanted to make sure everything was okay with us,” she says, because for some reason she can’t stop worrying about it.

And Alex pushes back a little and she pretends that she isn’t hurt but she is, and Maggie has never stuck around for this part and she doesn’t know what to do.

“I like you, Alex,” she hears herself saying, and she has no idea what that means.

“It’s nothing personal,” she says, because no matter what she feels she’s always going to be this asshole.

And she asks, “still friends?” and she can’t believe it when Alex says yes, says of course, and even though it isn’t sincere, it’s the most anyone has ever tried to stay with her.

And she doesn’t know what she’s doing, because she’s never done this before. Once she packs her suitcase and pushes, she never tries to crawl back in. She’s not the forgiving type, she doesn’t beg for things or ask people to change their minds. When Marco kicked her out she left and never looked back. When Emily said they were done, she didn’t call or ask for forgiveness. When Jen said she never wanted to see her again, Maggie had nearly laughed. It was a warning, but Jen could have saved her breath. Maggie never comes back.

But she had packed and she had pushed and Alex had walked but she keeps finding herself with her phone in her hand, reaching out. Trying to be friends. Coming back again and again and again. Trying to keep Alex in her life. And she tells herself that it’s different, that Alex wasn’t a girlfriend, that’s why it’s different than with Emily and Jen. But she knows it’s bullshit – she never would have begged Eliza to have their friendship back, and Eliza hadn’t been her girlfriend.

Something about Alex is different. And Maggie wonders if being friends will actually work – if Alex will stay. If she’ll stay. How she’ll survive when the hot white lawyer shows up.

_**you are a driver peering past the moment** _  
_**holding the wheel until it turns** _

But she underestimated Alex. Alex lies for a living, has a badge that says FBI or Secret Service or probably CatCo Worldwide Media depending on her mood. Alex is running buddies with a superhero and her boss is an alien and she’s secretive as hell. But Alex is so earnest, so honest with her. And Alex lied to her at the bar and they both know it but Maggie never expects her to come clean.

She underestimated Alex. She pushed, and Alex left, and then she chased and Alex came back.

But now Alex pushes back, hard and firm and completely heartbreaking.

She rips Maggie a new one in a parking lot. “We’re not friends,” she says. And Maggie barely hears the rest of what she says because she knows this is the end, this is where Alex kicks her out, where Alex says _I never want to see you again_ and _you aren’t good enough for me_ and _you don’t deserve to be happy._ And Alex lets her have it. “You called me out for liking you,” she says, and Maggie feels like an asshole. “And I had the guts to admit, yes, it’s true,” she says, and Maggie is in such awe of how brave she is. “You told me that my feelings were real, and that I deserved to be happy,” she says, and Maggie is glad because she fucking meant it. “I thought you meant that I deserved to be happy with you,” she says, and Maggie feels like even more of an asshole. Maggie’s heart sinks, sure this is the segue into _you don’t deserve to be happy_ and _get out of my life_ and _sociopath_.

But she underestimates Alex.

“All I feel is pain,” Alex says. And Alex is the first person who doesn't let Maggie dictate the end from behind the curtain. She doesn't let Maggie be a coward, she doesn’t let Maggie hide. “You don’t want me,” she says, placing the blame right where it belongs. And Maggie wants to feel satisfied, she wants to feel happy that she’s keeping Alex safe, that she’s keeping herself safe, but she can’t. Alex is making her _feel_ , getting in the way of how she always is, how she always operates.

And Maggie is jaded and all hard edges, but Alex is messing her up. Alex took her back (sort of), is standing right in front of her, and is calling her on her shit. Alex isn’t saying _you don’t deserve to be happy_ , she’s saying, _you could be happy if you wanted to_. She might be saying, _I want to make you happy but you won’t let me_. Alex called her amazing, she realizes. Alex said she was a great cop.

Alex kissed her. Alex took her arm and kissed her and Maggie rejected her and Alex didn’t kick her out but isn’t letting her off the hook. And no one has ever treated her like that and she doesn’t know how to feel.

Alex is messing her up.

She feels herself softening and she doesn’t know what to do. She wants to stay hard, to protect herself. To protect Alex.

Right?

_**you could be water to me, i might be wine** _  
_**the stars have all faded here** _  
_**they give us no sign** _  
_**is this the right time?** _

But then she finds herself outside of Kara’s apartment and she’s never felt so soft, not since she was fourteen. That day, that Valentine's Day, slipping that note between the slats of Eliza’s locker, she’d felt alive, awake, like she’d die if she didn’t feel Eliza’s finger on her lips again.

And she doesn't know what this is, what’s happening, but she knows that Alex has fucked her up. That Alex has transformed her into something new, someone new. That Alex has interfered with every plan she’s made, because she’s here, just a hot minute after Alex walked and she’s begging Alex to come back.

She’s **_never_** begged. Not Marco, not Eliza, not Emily, not Jen. Begging is weak. Begging means that they have power over you, that they have control over the situation. Maggie is always in control. Maggie is always in power. Maggie is never at anyone’s mercy. Maggie hasn’t trusted anyone with herself since the day she put that note in that locker.

But she’s here, standing here, begging. Handing herself to Alex and begging. Because somehow she’s different now. She’s been water for years and years, thin and trickling, and suddenly she’s wine, thick and full and rich and heady. Because something in Alex is different and Alex sees her and thinks that she matters and Alex might think that she deserves to be happy and no one else has, ever.

And it’s not like there’s a sign, not like all the stars are aligning and pointing her towards this woman, in this place, on this night.

But she’s here, and Alex had walked away at the bar and in the parking lot but she comes out of the door to see Maggie and she gives her two minutes and she looks devastated and Maggie doesn’t know how she wants to feel but she knows she doesn’t want Alex to walk away again.

And even though she’s messed up, even though she’s broken, even though looking at Alex makes her feel like she might be an okay person for the first time in years, she somehow still gives more of a shit about how Alex feels than about herself. So, for the first time, she offers to be the one who walks away. “If you never want to talk to me again, I’ll respect that,” she says, and she means it. “I’ll disappear”, she says, like it wouldn’t kill her.

But Alex matters, so she means it. She’d do it.

And then she begs, because she is thick and full and she is jaded but she _knows,_ for the first time in forever, how she wants to feel.

Because Alex matters.

“I don’t meet many people that I care about,” she says. And she also means, _no one has ever cared about me quite like you do_.

“I care about you,” she says, her heart trembling with how vulnerable she is.

And she doesn’t mean to but her voice breaks a little. “A lot,” she says.

“You’ve become really important to me,” she says. _You’ve changed me_ , she doesn’t say.

“I don’t want to imagine my life without you in it,” she says, because it’s true. And she also means, _please don’t kick me out, please don’t make me go, please don’t leave me_.

“Pool, tomorrow night,” Alex says, because she is the bravest person Maggie has ever met.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Maggie says, because it’s really fucking true.


	8. Two Points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3: I've Been Wanting to Do That
> 
> Two Points
> 
> "Two Points" by Deb Talan from "A Bird Flies Out" (2004)
> 
> Forgive the pronouns in the song, it's the only way it makes sense

_**she said any two points can make a line** _  
_**but i know i can never make you mine** _

Alex hasn’t had the most stable of lives.

The entrance of Kara, the exit of her father, the possible re-entry of her father, the shattering of her relationship with her mother, academic probation, being a professional secret alien hunter. There hasn’t been a lot that has been a constant she can rely on.

But mathematical constants, those are always true. Two plus two is always four, no matter what. The quadratic equation is always the same, no matter if her father is dead or alive. A square is always made of right angles, and you can draw a line between any two points 

She’s never been one for poetry, but she likes how poetic geometry is. She’s always been more about calculus and applied physics, herself, but the idea that a line exists between any two points, she likes that. She thinks of herself and Kara as children, one on Earth and one on Krypton, and she likes thinking about the line that connected them, even then. For Kara’s sixteenth birthday, Alex gave her an abstract print – only the two of them knew it was a star chart with a straight line between the coordinates of Midvale and Kara’s home on Krypton. They could be anywhere in the universe, their two points, and Alex would always be able to draw a line between them.

It’s one of the most comforting things she can think about.

 

 _**and he's gone missing** _  
_**another heart skitters away over broken words** _  
_**she is crying in advance** _  
_**while he is doing his dance to go and stay at the same time** _

Alex kissed Maggie in the bar, euphoric. And it didn’t go well. It’s, whatever. She doesn’t want to dwell on it. She never wants to think about it again, actually. She’s never been quite that humiliated, not when Kara had announced to all her new friends in the crowded lunch room that Alex was teaching her all about vagina (they were going on a trip to _Virginia_ ), not when she’d nearly flunked out of grad school, not when she’d been arrested. But Maggie had pulled away from her and Alex hadn’t even understood what was happening for a while, adrenaline and oxytocin still flooding her neural pathways.

And then she’d understood, but she was confused. “Are we cool?” Maggie had asked, like she’d just turned down Alex’s request to bum a cigarette or drive her motorcycle. Alex had stammered something, a lie, because in what universe could she be cool? And then she’d turned to leave, and Maggie had called after her. “Alex,” she’d said. “Don’t go.”

 _Don’t go_? **_Don’t go_**? Don’t go, after Alex had grabbed her and held her face and kissed her? After Alex had come out for her, dropped bomb after bomb on her, had handed Maggie her entire heart, and Maggie had just politely handed it back, like it wasn’t mangled beyond repair? _Don’t go_? Maggie had said “I’m here for you, but, as a friend,” like things could just go back to the way they were? Like Alex could just pick up a pool cue and everything would be fine? Like Maggie hadn’t just told her to go, told her to take her shiny feelings and get out of her face, and then was allowed to ask her to stay?

No.

_**i'm beginning to think we can't take it like this** _

There had never been a time when they were just friends. Never. There were the times when Maggie was closed off and sarcastic and Alex was confused. Then there were the times when Maggie was broken-hearted and Alex was dopily crushing on her. Then there were the times when Maggie was supportive and Alex was rearranging her entire life because this wasn’t just some crush. And then there was this. When Maggie pushed her away, cleanly rejected her, and then told Alex not to walk away.

They had never been friends. They had been colleagues and then they had been something entirely new, and now they were nothing.

And Maggie keeps trying. She shows up at the bar, interrupting a drink with her friends, and makes Alex talk to her. And she’s sweet and kind and concerned and Alex hates her. She hates her for being so beautiful, for having texted so much, for trying to recreate the friendship that had never really existed. For making it seem like Alex is being irrational for having walked away, for not having texted back. “The last time we saw each other, things got a little…complicated,” she says.

 _**why's it get so complicated** _  
_**when two people make love** _

_Complicated_.

Not humiliating, not devastating, not life changing. No. _Complicated_ is a formula that doesn’t work right the first time, _complicated_ is figuring out how to bring down an alien five times your strength with your bare hands, _complicated_ is trying to sneak enough potstickers past Kara to be able to feed yourself. What happened at the pool table wasn’t complicated. “I don’t know,” Alex says, trying to sound impartial. “I thought it was pretty straightforward.” Alex kissed her, Maggie said don’t do that again. That wasn’t complicated.

But this, standing here in this corner, pretending that everything is fine, that’s complicated. Because Alex can’t kiss her, shouldn’t want to kiss her, shouldn’t remember what it’s like to kiss her, can’t stop remembering what it was like to kiss her, can’t stop remembering what it was like to have her pull away. Can’t stop feeling hurt and humiliated, but she’s standing up straight here, nodding and saying “Of course” with a little insincere smile when Maggie asks if they’re friends.

And that’s complicated.

 _**she said any two points can make a line** _  
_**but i know i can never make you mine** _

And before the kiss, when Alex saw Maggie or thought about Maggie she would think _I want to make you mine_. And now when she sees her, all she can think is _I can never make you mine_. And that doesn’t seem like something friends should be thinking about each other, really. So, maybe it’s not complicated.

Maybe they aren’t friends.

 

 _**i wish i were a bird, she said** _  
_**so you could fly away? no** _  
_**so we could be together** _  
_**with no thoughts of yesterday** _

So Alex tells her that, in a crowded parking garage. “We’re not friends,” she says, because it’s true. And Maggie looks confused and that’s honestly infuriating. Maggie had smashed her heart into little pieces and they weren’t cool and it isn’t complicated, it’s just true. And Maggie is beautiful and soft and Alex loves her but that doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t make it easier to be friends. Not after Alex knows how it feels to kiss her, how it feels to hug her, how her skin feels under Alex’s thumbs, how it felt to break apart in Kara’s arms.

It’s actually pretty straightforward 

“I thought you meant that I deserved to be happy with you,” Alex says, but she means, _you lied to me_.

“I don’t feel liberated,” Alex says, but she means, _I feel betrayed_.

“Or like I’m on some great journey,” Alex says, but she means, _you pushed me away and then blamed me for not running back when you called_.

“All I feel is pain,” Alex says, because it’s true.

“Because you don’t want me,” Alex says, because it’s the only thing that matters.

They were never friends, and Maggie doesn’t want her. They can’t start being friends now, because Alex can’t forget what happened. She wishes, as she walks away for the third time, that she were a goldfish or a bird – someone who can’t remember the past. She wishes they could be friends, could be together with no thought of yesterday. But they can’t.

It’s actually pretty straightforward.

 _**she said any two points can make a line** _  
_**but i know i can never make you mine** _

There are two mathematical constants, now. Any two points can make a line, and _I can never make you mine_.


	9. Saturn's Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 4: Kiss the Girls We Want to Kiss
> 
> Saturn's Light
> 
> "Saturn's Light" by Deb Talan, from "A Bird Flies Out" (2004).
> 
>    
> aka, Maggie gets her head out of her ass

**Saturn’s Light**

Maggie doesn’t start many thoughts like this, but tonight she misses Nebraska.

The one thing Nebraska has over National City, or anywhere else she’s lived, is the space. Not necessarily the horizontal space - the distance between their farm and the next - but the vertical space. She hadn’t even understood claustrophobia as a concept until college, and it wasn’t until the end of her junior year that she realized she suffered from it a little.

She likes that National City is all about sunshine and warm weather, apartments with big windows and high ceilings, but still. It has nothing on the openness of the plains. Sometimes in the precinct, or in her squad car, or in the series of abandoned warehouses she finds herself in, she closes her eyes and imagines that she’s back on the farm, laying on a blanket under the stars and loving that there is nothing between herself and outer space.

The L-Corp lobby is open and bright, several stories of windows glittering in the dark, but, as Maggie lies prone on the floor and blinks back tears and wonders if she’s going to die, it feels like it’s closing in on her.

_**saturn's light throws a ring around the moon** _  
_**and i said my prayers too soon, no one was listening** _  
_**there's a hush on the street** _  
_**i can hear my own heartbeat, and my lonesome breathing** _

She isn’t sure where she was hit, exactly, but she knows it hurts more than anything that’s ever hit her before. _Lasers are no joke_ , a part of her brain reminds her. The rest wonders if anyone will care that she’s dead. If Marco will, or Juana. She thinks Rosa will. She should have called her last week like she’d meant to.

She wonders if Alex will.

It’s still loud in the building, shots firing and bodies falling, but all she can hear is her own heartbeat, her own lonesome breathing. She misses Alex.

**_but my soul's little bird can still sing_ **

She misses Alex.

It turns out she isn’t dying. While the burn from the laser fried her nerves and made it seem like her entire chest was open to the sky, the incision itself is small. Alex explains something to her about how the technology seems designed to inflict pain, not create complete bodily destruction, because it didn’t cut her entirely into pieces. She doesn’t pay much attention though, because Alex is right next to her. Because she misses Alex and then Alex is right there, putting her cold hands on Maggie’s skin and cutting her shirt off and telling her, in no uncertain terms, that she’s going to be okay.

And Maggie still aches for her, but she’s right here, so maybe she doesn’t _miss_ her, exactly. Maybe it’s something else.

_**i want a good love, i want it so bad** _  
_**it's a seed stuck in my throat** _  
_**it's a weed around my hope** _  
_**it makes me choke** _

It’s a leap, from “I don’t want to imagine my life without you in it” to…anything else, really. To being brave like Alex was, to taking her face in her hands and kissing her with no guarantees.

But, standing outside of Kara’s apartment, and in that parking lot, and, if she’s honest, all the way back in the bar, Maggie had felt like these feelings for Alex were choking her. Like they were growing, thorny and abrasive, up through the soft tissue of her throat, puncturing her skin and crawling all around her neck and choking her. Like she was downing in them, but they were coming from inside of her herself. Like her entire body was rebelling, was turning on her, was clawing at her to reach out, to kiss back, to beg Alex not to go. Like an attack of claustrophobia, but coming from within herself. Like her skin itself was too tight, too close, too much of a barrier between herself and outer space.

And maybe it’s because of the laser, maybe that fucking laser just evaporated or eviscerated that part of her – that cowardly piece of shit part of her – because now the only thing choking her and holding her down is the idea that Alex doesn’t feel loved. That Alex doesn’t feel wanted. That Maggie might have died and Alex would have never known how fucking amazing she is.

That Maggie might have died without knowing how it felt to love Alex properly.

Her fear of rejection, of getting close, of letting herself actually fall for someone like this – turns out that pales in comparison to the reality of one Dr. Dr. Agent Danvers standing before her, walls up and arms crossed, or soft eyed and deft fingered, or aggressively sarcastic and competitive.

**_but my soul's little bird can still sing_ **

She misses Alex, and Alex is right fucking there. So, yeah, no, _miss_ isn’t the word.

And Maggie doesn’t know what it is, exactly, if it’s _love_ or _kiss_ or _want_ or _please_ or _Danvers_ , but at least she knows what it isn’t. It isn’t _friends_ or _cool_ or _no_ or _we’re in really different places_.

**_i want a good love, i want it so bad_ **

And Maggie wants to tell her but Alex is so happy – to have come out to her mother, to finally accept herself. To not be gay for Maggie but to just be gay. “This is my new normal,” she says, “And I’m happy that it is,” and “I finally get me,” and “It wasn’t about you, but it’s about me living my life,” and Maggie wonders if this is the part where she meets the lawyer with the blonde hair and the killer lipstick who is much, much taller than she is.

**_i want a good love, i want it so bad_ **

And Maggie wants her. She wants her so bad. But she doesn’t want with Alex what she had with Jen, or with Emily, or with Sam, or with Krista. She wants something good. She wants something good _with Alex_ , something she’s never had before. She wants it so bad. She wants to be good enough for Alex, to make her better instead of wearing her down. And, Jesus Christ, she wants someone who will make her better, who will be good to her, who will treat her like she’s worth something. Like she’s more than her ass and her gun and her long tongue.

Like Marco was wrong about her.

And when she’s with Alex she feels so free, and so light, and so good. So unbroken.

**_saturn’s light throws a ring around the moon_ **

And she doesn’t want to hurt Alex but maybe she just…won’t. Maybe she’ll just make something so good with her, maybe they’ll just make each other so much better, they’ll be so good to each other, that instead of grinding and gnashing holes into each other they’ll help to heal each other, to patch each other up. To make each other whole.

And there is this thing in science, in astronomy, where certain planets and stars and moons respond to each other and make each other better and brighter. Earth’s moon is only bright because it reflects the sun. And people see rings around the moon, see a man in the moon, see god in the moon, but the only reason they can see it at all is because of the sun. Because the sun shines its own light on this little stupid rock that couldn’t even become a planet, that just floats around, pulling tides and messing up menstrual cycles. And the sun is the only reason there is life but people have always worshiped the moon too, and Maggie wonders if maybe that means something. If Alex is the sun, maybe she can be the moon. Maybe she can be brighter, better, stronger, more worthwhile in Alex’s light. Maybe if she works hard enough, stays close enough, is loyal enough, she’ll become something important.

Maybe she and Alex can become parts of a whole, together. Maybe they can reflect each other’s light. Maybe loving Alex can turn her from a stupid little rock into a moon. Maybe she can fall into Alex’s orbit and finally feel like she belongs somewhere.

_**it takes a will just to make it through the night** _  
_**when to wait and when to fight** _  
_**i’m swing and missing** _

But right now – in this moment, in this med bay, while she’s giving her these stitches – Alex is so happy. Alex is so happy and independent and Maggie can’t crush that by saying _I’m glad you realized this isn’t about me, but I’d love to circle it back to me, actually_. So she wills herself to hold it in. To make it through this night and these stitches without ruining this for Alex. So she just smiles at Alex and watches Alex and wants Alex and swallows everything back down. But it doesn't go quietly. It sticks in her throat, it chokes her, just a little bit. _Coward_ , it whispers. _You don’t deserve to be happy_ , it whispers. She feels the walls closing in on her.

She has to get out of there.

 

_**and i can only breathe outside** _  
_**or in tall buildings with high ceilings and open doors** _  
_**isn't there someone out there i am here for?** _

She leaves the DEO and goes for a ride on her bike, out to the desert. Her father hated the desert, everything about it. He thought all of NASA’s plans to explore Mars were bogus - _Who would want more desert?_ He’d say with an angry shake of his head whenever the topic came up (which was a lot, because Maggie was that type of kid) _We have enough of that here_. One of the ways to say desert in Spanish is _la tierra muerta_ \-- the dead land -- and he never called it anything else.

But Maggie loves it. She can breathe in it. She can imagine, as she climbs off her bike about an hour outside of the city, that there is nothing between her and outer space.

_**i’m swing and missing** _  
_**isn't there someone out there i am here for?** _

But, for the first time since she was fourteen, she doesn’t enjoy the solitude. She wishes she had someone out here with her. Someone who would climb off the back of her bike – or, maybe even, climb off the front and give Maggie a hand off the back, just every once in a while – and be out here with her. Someone who would understand that, when she’s overwhelmed, she can only breathe outside or in tall buildings with high ceilings that don’t press her down, that don’t remind her how small and fragile she is. For once, when she tries – when she swings with all her might – she wishes she could connect. She wants to hit a home run instead of fouling out, every fucking time.

She wishes for a home run.

She wishes, in that moment, that she could believe that she was meant for someone.

She wants to be meant for someone.

She wants it to be Alex.

She looks up at the moon, a sweet little stupid rock basking in the light from its sun, and she wants it to be Alex.

 

_**couples kiss across counters and tables** _  
_**i smile and then look at the wall** _  
_**but some people hold hands and they don't pay attention** _  
_**like their love is somebody else's invention** _  
_**our heads say hold back, but our hearts run to strangers and say** _  
_**"look at me, look at me, look at me"** _

She hates couples. She hates Valentine’s Day and anniversaries and when people sit on the same side of a booth. She hates when people are happy in love because she’s been happy and she’s been in love but she’s not sure she’s ever really been both at the same time. She’s always so busy bracing to be hurt, and she hates everyone who is less damaged. Who can hold hands and love without being afraid, or being vigilant, or breaking each other.

But she gets back on her bike, and she drives to Alex’s apartment. And her head tells her hold back so she stalls, walking a few blocks to a pizza place and a few more to a liquor store. And her head tells her to leave, to walk away, to push Alex away again.

But her heart is already thudding outside of Alex’s door, and she wonders if Alex can hear it.

_**when we meet, will her eyes recall me?** _  
_**i look for her face everywhere in the dark** _  
_**and i carry my torch of bright stars** _

And she has pushed so hard, and hurt Alex so badly, and she’s never begged before or come back before, and so she has no idea how this is going to go. She doesn’t have a plan, she just knows that she wants Alex, needs Alex, wants something so good with Alex. And there is a chance, a real serious chance, that she missed her moment. That Alex will look at her and give her a polite _thanks but no thanks_ or maybe an _are you kidding me?_ She doesn’t think, after everything, that Alex is going to go for _you don’t deserve to be happy_ or _I never want to see you again_ but there’s always a chance.

That’s always on the table, when it’s her.

But Maggie can’t stop wanting to see her. Can’t stop needing to see her, can’t stop looking for her face and listening for her voice and remembering her touch every time she closes her eyes. She was – okay maybe not _dying_ but seriously hurt and in incredible pain, just a few hours ago and all she’d been able to think about was Alex, was hoping to Alex one more time.

And so even though she’s afraid, even though Alex could close the door in her face, kick her out, break her apart, tear the stars from the sky, Maggie holds her feelings close to herself. Like a torch against the darkness of the night, she holds her feelings – bright and glowing – up to the sky and tries to create enough light for herself.

And maybe that’s enough to light her up. Maybe it’s her own feelings, maybe it’s loving Alex, that makes her a moon.

_**our heads say hold back, but our hearts run to strangers and say** _  
_**"look at me, look at me, look at me"** _

So, cradling her torch, she goes upstairs and she knocks and Alex opens the door and what Maggie says is “Hungry?” but she means _look at me, look at me, look at me_ because when Alex looks at her she thinks there is nothing between her and outer space.

And Alex mumbles about pajamas and talks about work and asks if everything is okay and Maggie says “They’re cute,” and she says “I didn’t come here for work,” and she says “I _really_ needed to see you,” but she means _look at me, look at me, look at me._

**_but my soul's little bird can still sing_ **  
**_i want a good love, i want it so bad_ **

And Maggie says “I almost died,” and she means _I’m sorry_ and _I want a good love_ and _I want it so bad_.

And Alex looks at her and reaches for her and worries about her and stitched her up, and she’s right here and Maggie misses her and she wonders if, maybe, there _is_ someone out there she’s here for.

And Maggie’s head is still afraid but her heart says “I was so stupid,” and she says “Life is too short,” and she says “We should be who we are,” and her soul’s little bird starts to sing.

“We should kiss the girls we want to kiss,” she says, because she means it.

“I just...” _I want it so bad_. “I want to kiss you.”


	10. Rocks and Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 5: Ride or Die
> 
> Rocks and Water
> 
> "Rocks and Water" by Deb Talan, from "A Bird Flies Out" (2004).

**Rocks and Water**

A calm certainty settles over Alex.

First she’s frantic, desperately casting around the cockpit for a set of controls she recognizes. Barking at Winn on the phone, pressing any button she can. But as the ship lifts higher and higher toward the atmosphere, and she understands that she’s going to be catapulted across the galaxy, that she’s going to die, she’s calm for the first time in days.

_**the devil he wore such a fine, fine shirt** _  
_**and it stayed so clean while he dragged me through the dirt** _  
_**now, honey, don't trust anyone who looks you in the eye** _  
_**don't take any kindness, it's a demand in disguise** _

When her father betrayed her, when he’d stolen the list of registered aliens and when he’d told her, in the forest, that she’d have to kill him to keep him away from Cadmus, she lost it. She broke down. She sobbed, she screamed, she lashed out, she drank.

She had fought for him, turned on Kara for him. She’d been so blissfully happy, just hours before. Those last moments in Kara’s apartment – with her sister and her mother and her father and her Maggie all safe and whole and home and together – she didn’t think she’d ever been so happy in her life.

And it had all been a lie.

He had played them, fooled them, it was genocide in disguise. He took her with him and dragged her through the dirt of her past, of her love for him, of her entire life. He pitted her against everyone she loved, and he kept doing it even after she’d collapsed, sobbing, onto the forest floor.

Not just Mon-El now but Kara, but Winn, but J’onn lost their faith in him. Called him an enemy. Tricked her, betrayed her, dragged her.

Only Maggie stood with her.

_**seven times i went down** _  
_**six times i walked back** _  
_**and i don't fear the dark anymore** _  
_**cause i'm become all that** _

And J’onn betrayed her, in her own home, standing in her kitchen, dragging her, and she has never felt quite so lost.

And she had called Kara and Kara had come but Kara had said “I think you should sit this one out,” and Alex honestly wondered if Red Kryptonite as involved again, because she didn’t even recognize this person in front of her.

And Kara had said “You should be focusing on the aliens that we’re trying to find,” like the aliens were a bigger priority for Alex than Jeremiah, which, yeah, maybe they should have been be because there are mathematically more of them than there are of him, but Alex would never put the math before her own family, never, and Kara should have fucking known that.

And Kara had said “When we find them, you risk making a bad call and putting them in danger, or worse, getting yourself hurt,” like Alex could give a shit about getting hurt if it saves her dad from the monsters that are holding him.

And Kara had said “I have to go, I’m sorry,” like this, like the Danvers sisters being divided, being on opposite sides, fighting _against_ each other about Jeremiah instead of side-by-side _for_ Jeremiah was the new normal. Like what time it as and who publishes what was important than that fact that Alex was being shattered, right in this moment.

But Maggie had been there. Standing behind her, solid and strong. And Alex hadn’t been able to look at her but Maggie had said, “Ride or die,” and she had said “Where do we start?” and that was enough for Alex to pick up the pieces of herself and press them together and hope they held.

Like maybe when the rest of the world was against her, Maggie could keep her safe.

_**and i don't fear the dark anymore** _   
_**cause i'm become all that** _

And they had taken out three Cadmus lackeys and freed Brian and Alex had kissed her, hard.

And Alex had gone to Cadmus and she’d been focused and clear and dedicated but her hands had shaken as she’d set the bombs around the building. She wasn’t panicked or frantic, but she was jumpy, her breath coming in shallow gasps. And she got exactly what she needed. Her father finally, finally, looked her in the eye and nodded to her. He handed her back her gun and turned on Lillian. He trusted her to protect him, to protect herself, to protect Kara and Eliza. To guide him home 

And she dropped the stick and blew up the building and she was pretty sure, in that moment, that she was never coming home. But if she saved him, if she stopped the ship, if she brought down Lillian and Cadmus – that was enough for her. She wasn’t afraid. She was living her purpose. She had taken the darkness and turned it for her own use.

She wasn’t afraid. 

She ran onto the ship, got safely into the cockpit, and then she realized. She couldn’t stop it. Fear, then panic, and then, calm.

_**lift your head up in the wind** _  
_**when you feel yourself grow colder** _  
_**wrap the night around your shoulders** _  
_**and i will be with you even then** _  
_**even when i cannot see your face anymore** _

She worries, when Kara is getting shot at by the ship. But once Kara is in front of her, once she can put her own eyes on her beautiful baby sister, she’s calm.

She makes Kara look at her. What happened in the apartment is gone, erased, brushed off to the floor where it belongs. One or two petty fights can’t possibly stack up to how much Alex loves Kara, has always loved Kara, has always needed Kara.

And Kara looks back at her, eyes firm and set and confident, and she gives a little nod, and Alex knows.

Kara loves her.

“Okay,” she says, but she means _I’m so happy to see you one more time_.

“Go,” she says, but she means _Thank you for loving me_.

“Come on,” she says, but she means _I love you_.

She presses her hand to the glass and hopes that Kara knows that she isn’t afraid.

“You can do this,” she says, but she means _You’re so strong and I’m so proud of you_.

“You got this,” she says, but she means _I will always love you._

She wishes she could call Maggie, just to hear her voice one more time. She hopes that, after she’s gone, Maggie and Kara go on with their lives. She hopes they’re happy. She hopes that when they’re cold or afraid or alone, they can feel her with them.

She knows that, even from across the galaxy, even after she’s died, she’ll feel them with her. She’ll have Kara’s strength and Maggie’s hard edge, Kara’s generosity and Maggie’s gentleness, Kara’s sweetness and Maggie’s support.

She hopes they’ll have something of hers, too. She hopes they feel warmer, less alone, for having known her.

 

**_i will be rocks, i will be water_ **  
**_i will leave this to my daughter_ **

And Alex has always been Kara’s rock, her steadiness, but Kara is Alex’s water. Kara is what fills her up, keeps her alive, the energy and the love that flows back and forth inside of herself. Alex always felt at peace in the swells of the ocean, and Kara has always been her water. And water doesn’t need rocks, really. It can flow straighter and stronger and more true without them.

Kara will be okay without her, and she’s happy for that.

And if Kara is the water inside of her, Maggie has become something entirely new. Fire maybe, like before Maggie she’d always been cold and never realized it. Or a gust of wind, like she’d never tasted fresh air before Maggie and now knows the crisp taste of fall on her tongue. Kara is what kept Alex existing, and Maggie is what has made her happy and whole and new and fresh and maybe even worthwhile.

So now, as this ship catapults her into space, she’s happy with her legacy. She’s happy with what she’s done with her life. She’s happy with what she is leaving on Earth.

She’s happy that she was able to give Kara such a good decade and a half. She’s happy she was able to build a life and a family for her sweet orphaned sister. She’s happy that Kara wasn’t alone. She’s happy that she loved Kara so well, so fully, so completely. She hopes that her love and her strength keep Kara going. Keep her strong. Keep her warm and safe when she feels cold and alone. She’s so much better for having loved Kara.

She’s happy that her father isn’t a pawn anymore. She hopes that he gets free of Cadmus, comes home for good. She’s happy that they had this moment together, that he knows that she’s never given up on him. She’s happy to know that he still loves her, that he’s still a good person.

She’s so impossibly happy to have known Maggie. She’s happy to have learned this new and beautiful thing about herself. She’s happy to have started creating something new and beautiful with Maggie. She’s happy with how happy she’s been able to make Maggie. She’s happy to have loved Maggie so purely, so honestly, to have been someone steady and present and loving for Maggie. She hopes that she’s helped to heal some of the raw wounds inside of Maggie, hopes that Maggie feels a little more deserving of a good love. She hopes that she’s helped Maggie see how amazing she is, how wonderful, how beautiful, how good and generous and giving and perfect she is. She hopes that Maggie is a stronger and softer person for having known her.

She wishes she had told Maggie that she loves her, but she’s sure that Maggie knows.

As the engines continue to fire, as she watches Kara push and scream and falter, she’s calm. She’s at peace.


	11. Big Strong Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 5: Ride or Die
> 
> Big Strong Girl
> 
> Lyrics from "Big Strong Girl" by Deb Talan on "A Bird Flies Out" (2004)
> 
> \---
> 
> This chapter, like all of them, was written before 2x17 and the infamous I'm-here-to-help-you-heal-beacuse-alex-danvers-is-the-best-girlfirend-in-the-universe-2k17. So I'm mulling about maybe writing another version of this chapter using Big Strong Girl from Alex's POV about Maggie post-Emily. (And depending on what happens in 2x19, maybe a third? Who knows!) Let me know in the comments if you'd like to read it.  
> Otherwise, just one chapter left now.

_**don't push so hard against the world, no, no** _  
_**you can't do it all alone** _  
_**and if you could, would you really want to?** _  
_**even though you're a big strong girl** _  
_**come on, come on, lay it down** _

Maggie understands when Alex says she has to go after Cadmus alone.

She understands that “ride or die” doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re riding together. She understands that Alex has to go after her dad. Alex had broken apart in her arms just nights ago, and Maggie, more than anyone, knows what it’s like to be betrayed by your father. But Jeremiah isn’t Marco. He is redeemable. He is doing this because he loves Alex, he said, because he loves her so much.

He isn’t Marco, and Alex has hope, and Maggie understands that. If there had been a chance that Marco might have changed his mind -- a chance hadn’t _wanted_ to kick her out but had been forced to by some deadly power -- young Maggie wouldn’t have stopped until she’d blown up every building in Blue Springs.

She understands.

And she understands why Alex gets on that ship. They talk about a lot about immigrants, refugees, migrants. People just trying to get by. They sympathize with them. They understand it. Alex gets it. She wants to save them. She wants to redeem her father and save all of these sweet refugees. To make it better for them. To keep them from becoming hard.

And she understands that Alex feels the weight of the world on herself. And she understands that Alex can’t do it all alone. That she needs Kara. That she’s always needed Kara to save Jeremiah, to save herself. She can’t do it all alone, and if she could, would she really want to? Maggie is her partner and her girlfriend but Kara is her reason for surviving.

And Maggie understands that all she can do is wait and hope and try to have faith in Supergirl. Try to have faith that Kara will literally move mountains and snap the laws of physics to save her sister. Try to have faith in the two of them as something stronger than each of them alone.

And she understands, when it looks like she may never see Alex again, that she loves her.

And she understands, when Alex’s jubilant voice cuts through the comms, that Supergirl has done it and Alex will be coming home to her. And she understands that the choked sobs she hears echoing around the room are coming from her own body.

They somehow get the ship down safely, Maggie doesn’t understand or even really care how, and Alex and Supergirl come back to the DEO, walking on their own two feet like weren’t just an instant from being gone forever.

And Maggie understands that Alex has to hug J’onn and Winn, that she can’t let go of Kara’s hand. She understands that she has to hold it together because, even though Alex has cried in this building and hurt in this building and lost pieces of herself in this building, right now she’s a hero. And she’s so big and so strong, standing so tall, and Maggie understands.

But, finally, Alex and Kara hug for maybe the hundredth time, and promise to spend the entire next day together, and Alex looks like she’s about to invite Kara over for tonight but she looks over at Maggie and she must see something in her face, because suddenly Alex understands. And she squeezes Kara and whispers to her, and then she walks over to Maggie.

And Maggie takes her home.

_**even though you're a big strong girl** _  
_**(come on, come on, lay it down)** _  
_**the best made plans** _  
_**(come on, come on, lay it down)** _  
_**are your open hands** _

Maggie takes her home and gently strips her. She urges Alex into the shower, and then can’t seem to let go. So Alex gently strips her and urges her in too.

And Maggie meant to make dinner but instead she just holds Alex under the spray, laying down her plans to instead press her open hands against Alex’s back until she understands that Alex is home.

And Alex has maybe never been as big and strong as she was tonight, and Maggie loves her.

_**rest your head** _  
_**you've got two pillows to choose from** _  
_**in a queen size bed** _

Maggie quietly forces Alex to eat. Alex wants to laugh, to joke it off, to pretend she hasn’t just been shot into space. That she hasn’t just blown up a building and left her father alone, again. And Alex is pretending to be so big, so strong, so impervious, but Maggie understands. She gives Alex food and, gently, lets her lay it down, lets her let it go for tonight.

They don’t talk as Maggie leads her to the bed.

_**feel the light caress your fingertips** _  
_**you have just begun** _  
_**the word has only left your lips** _  
_**maybe in time, you will find** _  
_**your arms are wrapped around the sun** _

And Maggie had thought that tonight was about taking care of Alex, but she finds that all she can do is say her name over and over again. They hold each other, and Maggie trails her fingers up and down Alex’s back and sides and over her cheeks and across her lips. And the moonlight coming through the big windows caresses them, and Maggie has never been one to want to feel grounded, but Alex understands. They gently roll on top of each other, holding each other down to the earth.

And the moon is bright and shining, and Maggie usually loves space but tonight she’s never been more afraid of anything. Of the moon, of the dark, of there being nothing between her and outer space. And Maggie has always been a big strong girl, has always faced her fears alone and unflinching, but tonight she can’t do it all alone. And Alex whispers all of her names – _Mag, Mags, Magda –_ and even if she could do it alone, she wouldn’t want to.

But Alex is here and she’s breathing and she’s soft and warm in her arms, and she doesn’t feel afraid anymore. It feels like her arms are wrapped around the sun.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 6: It's Called Being Happy, Get Used To It
> 
> Comfort
> 
> Lyrics from "Comfort" by Deb Talan on "A Bird Flies Out" (2004)
> 
> \----
> 
> This is the final chapter here. Thank you for reading - please leave a comment to let me know what you thought. you can also find on tumblr with the same handle  
> <3

**Comfort**

It’s not like there’s a moment when it automatically becomes easy.

It’s not like loving each other magically heals all of their wounds, softens all of their rough edges. It’s not like they both are suddenly mind readers, knowing exactly what the other needs, exactly what to say, where to be, how to touch. They make mistakes, they mess up, they fall back into old habits. They hurt each other, sometimes.

Maggie pulls away whenever things get scary, trying at all costs to keep herself from being blindsided by being left. Alex learns to reach out, to grab hold of her, to insist that she’s staying, that she doesn’t want to break up, that she won’t let Maggie walk out to cool off without first hearing, and believing, an _I love you_.

Alex is obsessed with work, with protecting Kara. She’s left innumerable dates and special occasions, even a vacation or two, when she’s been sure that she’s the only person who can possibly make a difference. The weight of the world comment was not a joke, Maggie learns. But Maggie learns how to ask _do you want to be there or do you need to be there?_ And Maggie learns to say _I want you to stay_ but to understand when Alex goes anyway. And Alex learns how to make it up to her, how to gauge when she should delegate and when she really can’t.

**_and the light from downstairs came up soft like daybreak_ **

But some mornings are like this one, when neither of them has to go into work, and neither of them worked last night, and they wake up slow and sleepy in Alex’s bed. And the soft yellow light filters in through her big windows, and the woman next to her has impossibly soft skin and an impossibly soft body and she can press on her and it feels like she’ll never hit a bone. Like she can just melt into her. When, from her position, she can’t quite tell whose skin is whose.

Some afternoons they get to walk in the park near Maggie’s apartment, the one with all the dogs. And they sit on the bench, and she reaches out and points at every dog she likes. _We could have that one_ , she says about all of them. _That one could be Gertrude_. And she leans, just a little, into her shoulder, and she puts her arm around her waist and kisses her on the head. _Yeah, baby_ , she says. _We could_.

Some nights they curl up on the couch and jam through the X-files, and she can’t stop herself from challenging all of their science, and they categorize each of Scully’s outfits as either _sexy as hell_ , _90’s as hell_ , or _why god why_. And she never lets her forget the time she got so scared she squeaked out loud, but when she has a nightmare about it she rolls over and spoons her, and buries her face in her shoulder, and she feels safe again.

_**and if you can't remember a better time** _   
_**you can have mine, little one** _   
_**in days to come when your heart feels undone** _   
_**may you always find an open hand** _   
_**and take comfort, there is comfort** _   
_**take comfort wherever you can, you can, you can** _

Some days are really bad. Some days they lose an agent or an officer or a civilian. Some days the bad guys win, some days they get hurt, some days they end up in the med bay or the hospital. Some days they can’t forgive themselves. Some days they can’t forgive each other – for running into the line of fire, for not making the smart choice, or for not backing her up. Some days they fight in front of their colleagues. Some days the DEO out-muscles the NCPD and the tension trickles down into their home. Some days Supergirl demands too much from Alex and it trickles down into their home.

Some days they feel broken. Some days they can’t help each other – days when they’re both broken, or days when they’ve broken each other. They try to learn to reach out to other people, to take comfort from others. From Kara, from Eliza, from Winn, from James, from J’onn, from Vasquez (with whom Maggie has started to seriously bond). From novels, from Dana Scully, from therapy, from sparring, from their one bonsai tree, from the dogs at the park.

But even after the worst days, when they’ve yelled at each other or had to kill or helplessly watched as someone died, she reaches out a hand. She’s learned to offer comfort when she can, and take it when she needs it. To feel like she deserves it.

And they’ve learned to share. Alex insists that Eliza calls Maggie regularly, to act like a supportive mother. That J’onn watches out for her, protects her, tells her he’s proud of her when she does something great. That Kara steals Maggie’s food too, shows up at Maggie’s place unannounced, even when Alex isn’t there, just to drop off food or make fun of _The Bachelor_. Maggie forces Alex to start meditating and stretching, coaxing her to take care of her body, to be gentle with her mind. When Alex isn’t strong enough, Maggie is there to lean on, and when Maggie is too alone, Alex is there, pushing a whole line of people into her life.

_**so cry, why not? we all do** _   
_**then turn to one you love** _   
_**and smile a smile that lights up all the room** _   
_**follow your dreams in through every out-door** _   
_**it seems that's what we're here for** _

Some days Maggie cries. Sometimes she sobs. It took her a while to be okay with crying in front of Alex, with letting her emotions out. With letting herself be that vulnerable. But she’s learned that there is no feeling quite like having Alex hold her, having Alex rub her back or arm, having Alex pull back when she’s done and smile at her like she still loves her.

Some days Alex asks for what she needs. Sometimes she demands it. It took her a while to be okay with asking for something, with being selfish, with asking Maggie to sacrifice for her. But she’s learned that there is no feeling quite like having Maggie reach out to her, take her hand, kiss her, and smile at her like she still loves her.

_**but just like you thought when you stopped here to linger** _   
_**we're only as separate as your little fingers** _

She hadn’t quite known how much she had wanted this. Their relationship isn’t all fireworks and sparks. It isn’t all endless rounds of steamy sex. It isn’t perfect. It has fireworks, it has sparks, it has great sex, certainly. It’s amazing. But it’s more than that.

When she’s with her, or she gets a text from her, or she manages to get her to send a ridiculous selfie when she’s out of town or stuck at work overnight, she’s safe.

She’s a part of a _we_.

“I knew we were right for each other,” she says, because they are.

“It’s called being happy, get used to it,” she says, because they are.

“Gross,” she says, because she loves her but it’s true.

“I want to be happy with you,” she says, because she does.

“You deserve an amazing romance with a woman who is absolutely crazy about you,” she says, because she does.

“Ride or die,” she says, because it’s true.

“I’m here to help you heal,” she says, because that’s all she’s ever wanted.

“I want a lifetime of firsts with you,” she says, because she does.

“You look like you’ve been shot with a love ray,” Kara says, because she does.


End file.
